For three days after the departure of Captain Mac there was little hunting done. Silent and morose as he often was, the absent explorer more than made up for this in his moments of gayety. His was a strong personality, moreover, and his absence could not but make itself felt keenly.

There was plenty to occupy the boys, however. A number of heads and skins had to be prepared and packed. Then there was the native village to visit, and this was a source of never-ending delight. The chief, whose name was Mvita, gave a great feast in honor of the hunters—to which the hunters donated the greater share of the viands—and the moving-picture outfit came into play with brilliant effect.

Mr. Wallace took out the boys on a two-days' trip after animal pictures, also. By utilizing the natives of Mvita's village and also the Bantu porters as beaters, a bloodless hunt was held. In this the animals were surrounded and forced to pass before a white-ant hill on which Burt was posted with the camera. Excellent pictures of various antelope, zebra, an old and toothless lion, and an infuriated rhino were obtained. In this way a week was passed, and finally Mr. Wallace announced that on the morrow they would hold another real elephant hunt, as Mvita reported a herd of the giant beasts three miles to the north.

As they were leaving camp at dawn, a number of the villagers hastened up, headed by their chief. With anxious face Mvita implored the honor of bearing the guns of one of the white men. John refused him, wishing to save the usual gifts and emoluments of the office. Burt, however, interrupted with a laugh.

"Let him carry our guns, uncle! We've never been waited on by a real king before, an' it's somethin' to boast of. He won't steal 'em, will he?"

"I guess not," laughed Mr. Wallace, nodding to Mvita. With evident delight the chief took Burt's heavy elephant-gun. He was clad in long flowing red cotton robes, doubtless his insignia of office, but when John suggested that he remove them for the journey he refused indignantly. He could speak a little French, but very little.

"Are we going to spend all day?" inquired Critch, as the camp was left behind and the red spears of dawn shot up in the east.

"Can't tell," replied Mr. Wallace. "The elephants were reported as being three miles north yesterday. By this time they may be twenty miles away, or they may remain in the same place for a week at a time, until their food is exhausted. However, we ought to strike something before noon."

"Say," broke out Burt suddenly, "remember what Cap'n Mac said last night about his scrap with that Arab trader? Do you think he was giving it to us straight?"

"Of course," answered his uncle decidedly. "Why?"

"Well," responded Burt doubtfully, "it looked a whole lot like downright piracy to me, that's all. It might ha' happened five hundred years ago, but it's hard to realize—"

"Look here," broke in Mr. Wallace, "you've got to remember, Burt, that Montenay has spent practically all his life exploring. He has his bad points, like all of us, but he has his share of good ones also. I myself don't blame him a bit. That Arab, Yusuf ben Salir, was a slave dealer and pirate himself. Besides, it was a matter of personal revenge with Mac. He's just done a tremendously brave thing in setting out for the pigmy land alone,—well, he's a strange character."

"Think we'll meet him?" asked Critch in a low voice. "Or rather, will he meet us?"

"I'm afraid not," replied Mr. Wallace. "He has only one chance in a thousand of making it. Hello! Look at that ant hill—the sunny side!"

Following his finger, the boys saw a huge snake stretched out, warming himself in the hot sun. All three were at the head of the beaters, and Mvita, the only gunbearer who noticed the snake, brought up his heavy gun rapidly. Mr. Wallace waved him back, however, drawing his revolver and putting a bullet through the serpent's head. Upon measuring him, the reptile was found to be exactly fifteen feet in length.

"Say, ain't he a beaut though!" observed Critch, gazing down at the bright green and gold body. "Is he hard to skin?"

"Not a bit," replied Mr. Wallace. "Not worth while, though. The colors won't last. The gold turns white and the green black."

"I don't care," said Burt, "let's leave a couple o' men to skin him anyhow. Even black an' white ought to make a mighty fine trophy. Snake skin keeps better than fur, anyhow."

As Critch was also anxious to save the python skin, two of the Bantus were left to take it into camp while the party proceeded north.

They had marched for over an hour without any sign of elephant when one of Mvita's men appeared ahead. A number had been sent out from the village to locate the herd, if possible. The man, flourishing his spear, ran up and reported that before dawn he had heard loud trumpeting in the forest ahead, not over a mile distant.

"Good enough," exclaimed Mr. Wallace. "John, get these chaps spread out in a line across country, to drive in anything toward the center. You stick to me, though, and handle my guns."

"Yes, sar," came the reply. A moment later the party had scattered, the natives stretching out in a long thin line far to right and left. Once more the advance was taken up, and all trudged steadily forward for half a mile. It was exciting work, for at any moment the patches of small trees, high grass and rush might yield anything from an elephant to a lion. A very hopeful-looking thicket had just been beaten through without any luck, and the three whites sighted an open grassy glade which stretched away in front, when Mvita gave a low whistle and muttered to John. The latter instantly stopped his master. Parting the bushes cautiously and gazing out on the fairly open glade, all could see a good sized herd of wildebeest grazing a quarter of a mile away.

"We must have one of them," whispered Mr. Wallace, as the boys stared at the weird, bison-like animals eagerly. "We're down-wind, so I'll stalk 'em. Come on, John."

The two stole out cautiously, and began making a slow advance over the open space, hiding behind the ant hills and among the tall grass. Only the waving tops of the latter betrayed their presence, but just as the boys were expecting to hear a shot, Mvita touched Burt on the arm. One of his men had approached silently, and his face portended big tidings.

"What is it—elephant?" asked Burt. Mvita grinned and shook his head, then murmured one word.

"Simba!"

"Lion!" echoed Critch, who knew the native term. "Come on, Burt!"

Without hesitation the two boys turned away and followed the native guide. The latter led them to the right for some distance, and as no sign of lion showed up Burt became impatient.

"Where—" he began, when the native stopped, clicked his tongue, and pointed with his spear. Ahead of them the boys caught sight of a small lioness trotting away from a clump of thick bushes. Burt, grabbing for his rifle, ran forward eagerly. Critch's bearer was a Bantu, who handed over the heavy gun but refused absolutely to advance. The two boys ran forward in order to cut off the trotting lioness from a stretch of rushes for which she was making.

They were barely fifty yards from the clump of bushes when they both stopped short at a shrill yell from Mvita, who had followed them closely, at the same instant Burt saw something appear at the edge of the bushes. Then came a low, muttering growl, and a huge black-maned lion appeared, his red mouth open, gazing steadily at the hunters. Burt pulled up his rifle and fired quickly. The growl ended in a snarl, and the lion rolled over.

"Hurray!" shouted Burt, "I landed him—"

"Look out!" yelled Critch, and the explosion of his rifle almost deafened his chum. As Burt had fired, three more lionesses had appeared among the bushes, following the first! Two disappeared, but Critch's shot stopped the last one, not killing her. He put another bullet into her shoulder and she lay still. While he ran forward to make sure of his prize, Burt, followed by Mvita, turned toward the lion. The great beast lay perfectly still. Three of the Bantus had run up, and were standing within a few yards of him.

They were gathered in a group near his tail, admiring and yet afraid to touch him. Burt remembered his uncle's warnings about the remarkable tenacity of life often shown by lions, and stopped when fifty feet away. The lion was still breathing, but lay motionless. Concluding that if he paid no attention to the chattering natives he would remain quiet for a finishing shot, Burt and Mvita ran onward, the chief displaying no fear whatever, unlike the Bantus.

They approached from his rear, and assuming that he was unable to rise, Burt stepped around for a good shot at the eye, which would not harm the pelt. The instant he came into view of the wounded beast, however, the latter revived.

With one terrific roar he sprang to his feet as if uninjured. His green eyes blazed with fury, and his lips were drawn back until his long, yellow teeth were exposed in a snarl that struck Burt cold, for the boy was barely a dozen feet away. The men had fled instantly, only Mvita remaining beside Burt. The latter, taken by surprise, gave a step backward, lifting his rifle.

Just as the beast was in the act of springing, Burt fired. The heavy bullet missed the eye and glanced off the sharply backward-sloping head of the brute, but its terrific impact was sufficient to stop the animal for the instant. Burt heard a yell from Critch, and was tempted to turn and run. The lion was up immediately, however, and again Burt stepped back and pulled the trigger.

This time, however, his foot caught in the grass. The bullet went wild, and the terrified boy gave himself up for lost. A tremendous thud and crash at his side told him that the lion had sprung; then a quick flash of red caught his eye as he rolled over and gained his feet.

The flash of red came from the robe of Mvita, whose faith in the white hunters had given way at the last moment. Seeming to realize all at once the danger of his situation, he turned and ran just as Burt fell, with a shrill scream. Beyond doubt this movement had saved Burt's life, for the brilliant red robe caught the eye of the lion, who at once gave chase to the yelling chief.

Burt, pale and excited, gained his feet just as the lion was catching up with Mvita. Lifting his rifle, he fired. To his dismay the bullet missed completely, throwing up the dust beyond Mvita. In a desperate effort to save the man before it was too late, Burt pumped at the magazine. At the same instant Mvita made a quick swerve. The lion also turned, coming broadside on to Burt. Just as Mvita was about to be brought down, the boy fired. The lion dropped in the middle of his spring, his back broken. A shot from Critch's rifle struck him as he lay, and Burt finally put a bullet through the lion's brain.

Relieved and rather weak-kneed at the imminent danger, Burt looked around for his chum.

He was astonished to see Critch, who had hastily returned, give a gasp, then burst into a roar of laughter. Whirling about, Burt stared over the body of the lion and then went into a spasm of mirth.

The sight that met his eyes turned what was nearly a tragedy into instant comedy. There was Mvita, a dozen yards from the lion, earnestly bent upon scrambling up a thorn-tree in the shortest possible time! He never cast a glance below, as the roars of laughter went up from the boys and even from the natives, but only climbed the faster. He was nearing the top of the spiny tree; on every limb and thorn hung remnants of his gorgeous crimson robe, and by the time he reached the top he was fully as well clad as his humblest subject below.

In vain did the boys yell at him to come down. Mvita was taking no chances of a mistake again, and not until he had reached the very top branch that would bear his weight did the terrified chieftain glance down. Even the sight of his laughing subjects and the dead lion hardly reassured him, but once he was certain of his safety he took a speedy and certain method of restoring his lost dignity. Descending as quickly as he had gone up, he brought a long thorn-branch with him, and applied this to his subjects and the Bantus indiscriminately until their laughter was changed to howls for mercy. Only at the intercession of the gasping boys did the angry chief cease.

The Bantus speedily gathered, and played like children about the dead bodies of the two beasts, which had been placed side by side. They proved themselves surprisingly good mimics, one taking the part of the lion and jumping with a growl at the others. Another took Burt's part, snapping his fingers as he stepped backward and finally fell; while a third played Mvita, running to the thorn tree with the lion in hot pursuit. At this instant an angry voice stopped the proceedings, and the boys looked around in alarm to see Mr. Wallace running toward them.

"Here, what is all this?" he shouted, waving his rifle. Before the boys could answer he caught sight of the two carcasses, and stopped short. "So you've been disobeying orders again!"

"Not quite that, uncle," returned Burt quickly. He then explained why they had left, together with all that had happened. As Mr. Wallace glanced at the almost naked chief, and then at the decorated thorn tree, his face relaxed and Burt knew there was no more to fear.

"You spoiled a fine shot for me," was all Mr. Wallace said. "I guess you've had lesson enough. Get the boys busy on the skins, John."

"How about the elephants?" spoke up Critch.

"They're not far off, unless your shooting frightened them. We'll leave the Bantus to skin these beasts, while we go on with Mvita's men."